


The Watchfan

by VivikaJ



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Multi, Parody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivikaJ/pseuds/VivikaJ
Summary: As an intergenerational saga comes to a culmination, one storyteller and one True Fan -- once enemies on the battlefield of fandom -- join forces to stop an evil overlord and his henchmen from destroying a beloved franchise.Rey and Kylo will get here. It'll just take 'em a minute.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Watchfan

“All right, which of you did it?!” The CEO stamped his foot. “I know it was one of you arthouse bastards. Now start talking!”

Some of the story group looked nervously around at each other. Others glanced at their feet. The Source sat calmly in the back, leafing through a Transformers comic and sipping a glass of blue milk. 

“Force dammit, talk now! Director Junior is out there making an ass of himself every second he talks and it is someone in this room’s fault!”

The Creative raised her hand. “Excuse me sir, I don’t mean to be contrarian, but how is it the story group’s fault The Co-Directors consciously chose not to take any story group recommendations or bother to follow the narrative beats that came before Space Western Episode IX?”

The CEO pointed a finger in her face. “Watch yourself, Creative. I’d hate to think the mole is you.”

The Creative murmured, “Yes sir.”

“If the plot hadn’t leaked prior to the movie drop this whole catastrophe could have blown over by now. But thanks to one of you bleeding hearts the fandom was riled up months prior and now they’re foaming at the mouth to tear this piece of shit apart!”

“With all due respect, sir,” ventured The Visionary, “we did suggest early on it was, as you aptly call it, a ‘piece of shit’ and would, in fact, flop.”

“Your job isn’t to tell a billionaire executive when a movie will and won’t flop! Your job is to stay in your lane!”

“Pardon me, sir,” said The Storyteller, his cowboy hat ascrew. “My contract states that my lane consists of writing Marcusfilm projects assigned to me and to provide assistance with narrative cohesion to any other story projects Marcusfilm undertakes. Is this no longer part of my contract?”

The CEO stepped menacingly into The Storyteller’s space. “Listen Storyteller, you may be a writer but  _ I _ am the face of Rickey Rat, and if you don’t pipe down so I can get to the bottom of this you’ll no longer have a contract.”

“As you say,” The Storyteller said, then murmured something about the prior film’s director hiring creative visionaries.

The Source simply sipped his milk, basking in the entire situation. He knew for a fact he wasn’t the only mole in the tunnel. He had never forgotten the looks on the characters’ faces when they did their cold read of the revamped script. Over the following months, as more changes and reshoots occurred to cater to the loudest and most obnoxious minority of putrid, toxic fandom garbage, all the actors looked as though the very life had been drained from their bodies by some evil, withered overlord. One of the characters had, in act of resistance, “lost” said script at his hotel during reshoots and the film’s antihero was rumored to have had actual tantrums on set. Everyone involved in the circus seemed to sense the film would not only fail but would be the biggest insult possible to the entire franchise. Except for the three clowns in the middle of the tent. The head Chief Executive Clown, after numerous intervention attempts by the primary story group, had finally told them to shove their opinions up their collective ass or lose their jobs. Several quit on the spot. It was in that moment The Source knew what he had to do and that he  _ did _ have the strength to do it.

9 months prior…

Johnny was a fan. A real fan. A good fan. A real. Good. Fan. Not one of those young fans who had only become a fan during the modern episodes of Space Western. He had been a fan of the First Trilogy since he was a boy. His teenage years had been spent holding down the mantle of fandom by reading all the books and comics when there were presumably no more movies to be had. He was a Space Western fan before it was cool to be a Space Western fan, when people actively made fun of you for being one. He had met his hot, soon to be ex-wife through a Space Western convention. They married and had two point five children and a dog who were a Space Western fans, even during the shitty Prologues. They were true fans. Real fans. They were loyal to the franchise and deserved to have their faith rewarded.

Johnny and Almost Ex-Wife had formed a fan team -- with Johnny running the show of course -- that specialized in Space Western news and podcasting. It was a dream job, second only to his ultimate fantasy of running a Princess Lita based porn site. He had never gotten Almost Ex-Wife’s feminist blessing on that one, but he was confident he could turn New Tail to his side.

That, however, was relegated to the world of dreams for now. With a divorce pending and child support an imminent dot on the horizon, Johnny had to put his focus on more important things. Things like stalking out Marcusfilm staff for Episode IX gossip and traveling to editing studios to procure tidbits of footage. Johnny was behind on his insider info, had failed to deliver accurate intelligence during the prior episode due to the Episode VIII director creating an entire false set during filming to throw off fan speculation. That had hurt his reputation in the fandom, and fewer hits on his site meant fewer dollars. He needed to find something, anything valuable and true to leak or his days as a cool podcaster in the community of Real Fans would soon be replaced by the doldrums of -- he shuddered -- a Real Job.

But that could wait. Today Almost Ex had the kids. Today was a day for a deserving fan, a real good fan to get the relaxing, special treatment he deserved. He was smoking a joint with New Tail on a sunny California beach when an unknown number lit up his phone.

“Who the fuck is it, Johnny?” whined New Tail. “They’re harshing my vibe. It better not be your wife.”

“Relax babe. I told her I was out job hunting.” He picked up the phone. “Johnny Torch speaking.”

A mysterious voice that made Johnny think of those movies where all you see is an up close frame of the caller’s mouth replied, “Hello Johnny. I hope you’re enjoying your time at the beach.”

Johnny sat up. “Who the hell is this?”

A shiver ran down Johnny’s spine as the familiar voice replied, “Someone who could be your worst enemy or your most valuable asset.”

“All right See-Creepio, I’m gonna ask you one more time before I call the cops, who the hell are you?”

“I can’t tell you who I am, but I can tell you exactly what’s going to happen in Episode IX. It’s something your audience will be dying to hear.”

Johnny perked up in surprise, then responded, “I’m listening.”


End file.
